


Grief

by TalesFromRo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Parent Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 21:17:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17211116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalesFromRo/pseuds/TalesFromRo
Summary: After the reader's mother has recently died, Sam helps and supports her. Dean, however, goes above and beyond (much to your surprise and annoyance, yet eventually you come to accept it.)





	Grief

We walked into the hotel room, the lights were dim but somehow bright enough to give you a headache at the same time. I dumped my bags onto one of the three singles that were arranged around the too small room. The covers were decorated with a floral pattern, not elegant and modern, something you grandma might like – the whole room was dingy and disgusting but I was used to this kind of hotel.

I looked back to the bed, dreaming of when I could fall asleep, just turn my brain off from my thoughts for a while. God, I was tired.

Sleep was calling to me and I couldn’t be more thankful if I even tried. I lay there in the dark hearing the slight sound of Sam or Dean snoring – I couldn’t tell who it was but I didn’t really care to know. I had let my head hit the pillow just after the boys were wiped out and just as I did, my thoughts were racing. 

I needed to move, not just lie still staring straight up at the ceiling. I was thinking about all the things I shouldn’t have been in my tense and sleep deprived state. I crept out of bed as quietly as I could, not wanting to wake Dean or Sam. I didn’t want to deal with them or even just talk to anyone who was feeling concerned or pitiful. I grabbed a jacket from my bag and headed for the door. I closed it as quietly as I could behind me. 

The scenery outside matched the inside of the hotel, it wasn’t special in the slightest – or maybe it was special in that it was maybe the blandest place I had ever seen? There was a street lamp emitting just enough light to show that the small car park was full of cars which meant that a handful of other people had to endure a night at this place (which was surprising considering it was in the middle of nowhere.) Who knew that shitty hotel rooms were so popular? 

It was cold out, but I didn’t mind it, I normally enjoyed the cold and the knowledge that it would start numbing my hands soon didn’t bother me. It sounds pretty pathetic in hindsight but I can’t help that that’s just how it was for a little while. It was better than not caring at all that she had just gone and died. 

I wondered around thinking everything over, the past few days, what had happened on that day, to her and to me. I wondered if she had received that last letter I had sent. We sent letters to each other constantly, well okay maybe we would manage to send 3 or 4 each week but we had a system going and it worked well. She didn’t know exactly what I did for a living but she knew it could get dangerous and that I didn’t want her to be a part of it. I knew she often worried about me but she didn’t ask questions or make things difficult for me – I would never have forgiven myself if I had been the cause of something bad happened to her. 

We were planning to meet up in our past few letters. I hadn’t seen her in at least a year which didn’t seem so bad before but now I was feeling the distance from her like we were on different planets. Why hadn’t I asked to see her sooner? In that car park, I got so angry at myself. She was my own mother. I should have made more effort with her, maybe if I had I wouldn’t have felt like I was in the hotel and in those days but it was too late for anything to change then and it still is now. 

Why couldn’t I just fall asleep? Get sleepy and tired again so that I could waste time until the funeral? 

The funeral. 

It was no hunter’s funeral that’s for sure. I knew little about what was planned but the one thing I was sure of was that there would be an open casket. It would be the first time I had seen her in years, and she would be dead.

I thought back to Sam and I leaving the bunker, trying to avoid thinking about the impending day ahead. We had left alone, planning to just get this over and done with without any fuss, but then dean decided that he ‘couldn’t let us go alone’ and to say I was unhappy about it was an understatement and a half.

Why had dean followed Sam and I out here? I get that he wanted to ‘support me’ or whatever he was calling it. He just wanted to feel better about himself. The whole reason I had asked to go with Sam alone was that I knew I couldn’t keep up some sort of guard up around dean – we were just too close. He was that kind of friend that you couldn’t keep yourself from just telling them everything and knowing everything about them too. I knew that he being there would just mean more emotion from my part and that was exactly what I was trying to avoid.

Why did he have to come? I was so pissed at him for just turning up. I even managed to convince myself that it was him snoring rather than Sam and that my lack of sleep was his fault too. It was silly, but I had to get my anger out somehow. I was angry at everyone, Sam for not making dean leave us be, dean, myself and even my mother for getting in that stupid crash. I wanted to yell, at who I don’t know but I just needed to get it out of my system. Maybe I should just scream and yell at no one I thought, so I did. Tears started to well up in my eyes when I did, and once they started coming they wouldn’t stop. It was so quiet I could even hear the droplets hit the ground. 

The post-midnight lack of sound was eerie and I had felt as though I had lost control of everything. My body physically ached like it would after you’d been laughing so hard but in this instance, it was because I had been crying so hard. My stomach ached in a way that made me bend over and hold onto myself – I imagine now that it wasn’t just my crying that made me feel that way, it was the tension that I had been holding onto for days and I was feeling it all at once. I felt like I couldn’t stand anymore, so I walked over to baby and put my hand to her hoping she would keep me upright.

‘God, just stop. Just stop,’ I muttered under my breath. I clenched my hand that was resting on the car into a fist and hit its roof. I realised at this moment the attention I was probably drawing to myself. I looked over to the hotels and saw some old man looking through his window at me, I turned away in an attempt to hide from him. I heard a hotel door open at this point, and out of fear that this complete stranger would talk to me I started to walk away as quickly as my body in its tense and achy state would take me. I heard the footsteps behind me going fast enough to be someone running.  
‘Y/N, Y/N,’ he tried to yell quietly, I was so caught up in my own thoughts I didn’t register who it was. A pair of arms wrapped around my torso, stopping me from moving away from the hotel and instantly I knew it was Dean. He was holding me so that I was nearly off of the ground and I struggled to get free of him. ‘Y/N, stop, it’s fine.’

‘No it’s not, just let go.’ He did as I insisted and let go. I turned to face him and he took a hold of my hands and just kind of looked at me for a while. I told him how I felt for a little while, how angry I was, ‘I’m just so angry and I don’t even get why you’re here.’ His response to that was to just hug me and I let him, tired of resisting him. It managed to make me feel better to stop resisting it and just let us stand there together. 

 

The funeral was the day after, we spend nearly the whole day there but I don’t remember most of it. The few things that I did remember were her face, which looked like her face, but also didn’t. Maybe they had just done her makeup wrong or it had just been so long since I had seen her that she didn’t look like how I remembered her. I also remember holding dean’s hand for a lot of the day. He realised quickly after that night that what I needed from him was just a little bit more than a friendship to get through everything and that’s exactly what he gave me. He gave me more than friendship on our way back home and continued to give it to me when we found a letter from her on our doorstep when we arrived. She must have sent it just before she died. He gave me more than friendship from then on and every day after that one night.


End file.
